


Literacy Issues

by dromexa



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dromexa/pseuds/dromexa
Summary: Modern day coffee shop AUEllie works at a coffee shop as a barista and one day Mac wanders in to get a coffee. When she spells his name wrong he corrects her, but when he finds out that she takes things quite literally he decides to see just how far she’ll go…
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. The First Order

**Author's Note:**

> A fic nobody asked for but I couldn't get out of my head as I started imagining all the shit that would happen. Enjoy!

As Mac pushed the door to the coffee place open, he couldn’t help but think that these early mornings were really going to be the death of him. He’d got a job, thankfully, _finally_ , and was able to send money back home for Duncan.

But 6 am? No man should have to wake at 6 am.

Almost stumbling in the door frame, he shuffled over to the counter and eyed the menu blearily in an attempt to figure out the most amount of caffeine for the lowest price. Whilst he stared he somehow joined a line of like-minded people who shuffled forward and gave their orders to the girl at the bar.

And now he was distracted. Being confronted with pretty ladies this early in the morning was something else that was going to kill him. Maybe it was the early morning light, or the steam from the coffee machines behind her, but she looked… otherworldly. Like she was merely gracing the coffee shop with her presence before moving on to bigger and greater things. When she smiled at the guy in front of her, some weirdo wearing a flag around his waist, Mac moved up in line and tried his best to at least appear like he was functioning.

Her eyes met his as she leaned an elbow on the counter-top, resting her chin in her hand before looking him up and down. He couldn’t help but watch the smirk on her face, desperately wanted to ask her if she liked what she saw, but before he got the chance…

“Good morning, welcome to Vault Tec Coffee, where we make your order _SPECIAL_. What can I get you today?”

Her voice was somehow everything he didn’t know he wanted and yet just those words weren’t enough. If her everyday tag line for the company was getting his cock twitching, he wondered what would happen to him if she were whispering dirty little things in his ear…

Then a pair of fingers snapped in front of him and when his eyes snapped back to her face her smirk had grown into a full blown grin. A little bit wicked, a little bit saucy, and just a tiny bit terrifying.

He suddenly decided 6 am wasn’t such a bad time to wake up after all.

“Yeah, I’ll have the espresso machiatto please.”

Was that a coffee they did? He couldn’t remember how coffee worked. If he had been a praying man he would have been asking about twenty different deities if espresso machiatto was something that actually existed, but he’d already dug his hole and he’d be damned if he admitted that.

“And what size would you like that in… sir?”

Sir? _Sir?_ The way she said it, as if it was the most innocent thing that had ever been said, and suddenly everything was going south. There was no way in hell he could cope with this much stimulation in the morning, he was barely still standing and it was a fucking _miracle_ that he hadn't taken to using the bar for a bit of upright support. So, naturally, he couldn't say anything but,

“Oh, _grande_ , of course.” With a wink. Why the fuck did he have to _wink_? That was probably the most obvious line to use at a coffee shop. When she smirked and wrote down his order he mentally berated his lack of brain power, quickly attempting to shift into nonchalance when she looked back up.

“Name?”

“MacCready.”

“Wonderful. Your _grande_ espresso machiatto will be ready shortly Mr MacCready, if you would just like to wait at one of our tables. Is there anything else that I can do for you?” That smirk was going to be the death of him, being on her face where her face was. God, if he actually told her everything he wanted to do to _her…_

“N-No, just the… uh… just the coffee… please a-and thank you…” The words barely came out of his mouth as his traitorous mind imagined her on her knees in front of him, those pretty lips of hers doing something other than smirking at him, and practically tripped over every table, chair, and person on his way to a small table in the corner of the shop. There, he rested his face in his hands as he contemplated his life and how bad he was at living it.

Here he was, a sleep deprived man trying to earn money for his sick little boy and he was making dirty jokes at a pretty barista. What was wrong with him? A lot, that he knew, but when it came to women it seemed like his brain was always _just_ out of reach.

There was Lucy… She was basically an angel incarnate too. Had to be to put up with his constant shit to be quite honest. She was a doctor, worked in paediatrics; it had to be the cruellest irony that his dead wife probably would have known what disease was affecting their son. But she had died three years ago, attacked by a gang of mindless addicts, and now it was up to him to help their little boy however he could. That was the reason for the early mornings; getting any job he could so he could send as much money home as possible. There wasn’t much work for a guy like him back in Washington but apparently it was rife at the seams in Boston. He just hoped it would be enough, that he would be enough. Here he was trying to be a better man, a better _person_. There was shit he needed to do, and he was selfish for thinking anything to the contrary. And sticking his dick in the first half-way attractive… okay, the first _goddess_ -adjacent person who smiled at him was probably _not_ the way to go about that.

“ _Grande_ espresso macchiato for MacCready?”

God her _voice_. Here he was thinking about what a shit-ass he was for being such a hopeless cave man around a pretty girl and there she was saying his _name_. The way it came out of her mouth was almost a purr. It was too much, but he managed to get up and amble over to the counter. But then, when he looked up and saw her holding out his coffee with a smile nothing like the smirk she’d been wearing previously, that was the moment it _officially_ became too much. Words failed him as he reached out and took the to-go cup from her hand and twirled it slightly so he could see the writing on the back.

_MCREEDY_

“You spelt my name wrong.”

He really was an idiot. Literally anything would have been better than the pathetic excuse for words that just came out of his mouth. What happened to ‘thank you’? Hell, at this point maybe he should just leave a huge tip and never return. He was just turning away, ready to run to high heaven, when he heard her again.

“Well, spell it for me next time.”

He slowly turned back towards her and there it was; the smirk. Along with a little twinkle in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. Well two could play at that game… if his brain worked for half a second.

“My pleasure, dollface.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay whilst I'm not entirely sure if I've ever heard Mac say dollface in the game, I'm also entirely sure I can totally picture him doing that. Thanks for reading! This is my first Fallout fic so... its probably terrible but THANKS ANYWAY.


	2. Unwitting Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deacon has his own ways of finding things out, and nobody can stop him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some deacon shenanigans! those are always fun! enjoy <3

“Teasing the newcomers again, Ellie? Have you no _shame_?”

Turning on her heel so her back was now to the _finally_ empty counter, Ellie cast a withering glare on Deacon.

“Just because _you_ have no game doesn’t mean you get to comment on _mine_.” At her words, he grinned and slipped his shades down ever so slightly so he could meet her glare with his own look of disbelief.

“Maybe so, sweetcheeks, but at least _I_ remember to charge whoever I’m flirting with.”

Shit. He had her there. Apparently she’d been a little _too_ focused on the guy in the hat with the bad jokes. So focused, in fact, she forget to cash him up entirely.

“Are you telling me you _didn’t_ see him dying in the corner? I felt bad for the guy.” She hoped her shrug came off as casual, but knowing Deacon he wouldn't believe that anyway. He didn't believe anything anyone did was 'just casual'.

Raising his eyebrow, Deacon pointed over at Hancock, who was still slumped over his own coffee like it was his only lifeline to this realm of existence.

“Don’t see you handing out free drinks to Hancock over there. Doubt he’s gonna make it to work, and you wouldn’t even offer _him_ the gift of free coffee to put a pep in his step? Shame on you.”

Ellie rolled her eyes at the obvious probe, but was saved from answering as Hancock spoke up with his signature gravelly voice, probably from his late night.

“Yeah, what’s up with that Sunshine? You brighten my day so much already mind, but a man ain’t gonna complain about the cherry on top of the sundae.”

Laughing, Ellie turned to face him, “And _you_ flirt with anything that moves sweetie. No free drinks for you on _that_ front.”

While Hancock’s smirk deepened into a scowl, Deacon’s face lit up in what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

"So you gave him the free drink cause he flirted with you? I’ve seen you knock guys down a peg when they had pick-up lines that were actually _good_ , like old Hancock here.”

Hancock grumbled in the background while Ellie huffed and began to clean up, prepping the stations for the next rush. Deacon, clearly intent on being no help whatsoever, hopped up onto a counter-top and swung his legs back and forth. After studying her for a little while, he smirked and leaned in.

“Or, _maybe_ you got distracted because you think that guy’s _actually cute_ , and forgot to ask him for money.”

Caught out. _Again?!_ Ellie stared at Deacon, her face probably showing her shock plain as day. How the _fuck_ did he _do_ that?

“Oh man!” Deacon crowed, slapping his hands loud enough on the counter to jostle Hancock from his glum staring contest with his coffee as he slipped down, “You think he’s cute!”

Ellie muttered a furious “Shut up, Deacon!” at him as she pushed past to get to the back room and away from the conversation.

“You _like_ him!” He sang in an obnoxious voice, and only laughed when she gave him the finger on her way through the door. Deacon’s teasing had lured Hancock from his chair, now leaning against the bar with his head resting on his hands. When Deacon turned his grin on him, Hancock merely gave a long suffering sigh.

“What’s that kid got that I don’t, huh?”

Patting the man on the back, Deacon answered, “Not a clue buddy. Maybe one day we’ll find out. Now get your bad self out of here, you’ve got work, remember?”

Nodding grumpily, Hancock slipped out of the coffee shop and on his way. Deacon smiled to himself again, triumphant. Some might say he was slightly evil; not enough to actually be a bad person, he just enjoyed putting people in situations that made them _slightly_ uncomfortable. And this? This was a promising situation for all kinds of good-natured fun.

"Hey, Ellie?" Silence. "I'm taking a break, good luck!"

By the time she'd come in from the back room, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> may or may not have forgotten that people are supposed to pay for things in the world. is it really a retcon if theres only one chapter? who knows but hope you liked this little snippet! <3


	3. Closer Than You Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I tend to write these in between work calls and I've not really had time recently, but I finally got it out! Hope you like <3

The whole morning had been a blur after leaving the coffee shop. It had only been across the road from where he was working, and he’d thought that would be a good start.

He was mistaken.

Turns out, that flag wearing weirdo he’d seen? That was his new boss. Apparently, he was ‘Director of First Impressions’ as he’d put it, and was _very_ dedicated to his character. So much so, in fact, that Mac couldn’t tell if the guy’s name was actually John Hancock and he’d found the job of a lifetime, or if he was some method actor that took his job _really_ seriously. Either way, after that the man had told MacCready to finish his coffee right then and there, saying something about it being ‘unauthentic in this environment’. Mac had never regretted much in his life, but the not-so-subtle dick joke he made when ordering this coffee was probably a high contender; that much pure coffee was going to send him off the deep end, and he hadn’t even started _working_ yet.

As soon as the last drop was gone and thrown in a nearby trash can, he’d been promptly whisked off to be put into costume. The guy who picked out his outfit had this stupid smug grin on his face the entire time. He probably would have been more amiable if the prick had taken off his sunglasses at least once. The sun wasn’t even up yet, _and_ they were inside. In the basement.

It didn’t help when he was soon dressed in what looked like an old vintage collection of curtains. It was not only the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen, it was also the most ridiculous thing he’d ever worn. If he hadn’t been getting paid, and he didn’t have a damn good reason for keeping this job, he would have told that sunglasses-wearing dick where he could shove it. But, as it were, this shit was important and there was no way in _hell_ he was letting it get to him. He was then sent straight back upstairs to report back to the ‘Overlord of the Realm’. This was also the point he figured out this shit was all made up.

When Hancock saw him, the laughter didn’t stop for a while. Just when MacCready was about at his limit, Hancock finally wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, although his words were interspersed with the odd snort.

“Damn sugar, it’s a good thing you’ve got that baby face.”

At this point, keeping his mouth shut was a god damn miracle, although the _insane_ amount of coffee he’d had wasn’t helping. Hancock gave him a wink before telling him, “You’ll make the perfect wife.”

Apparently, the first day of his new job was going to be spent as Dorothy Quincy, the wife of John Hancock.

His mouth couldn’t keep shut anymore.

“Yeah, _yeah_ , laugh it up wise guy.” Hancock continued cackling, failing in his attempt to turn it into a cough. Mac sighed, “Just… just promise me something?”

At this, Hancock’s interest was piqued. He leaned in, his eyes sparkling. “Anything.” Mac fluttered his eyelashes at the man.

“Just try not to fall in love with me. I’m not looking for some scandalous work-place romance.” Then, because he had no control of himself, he threw a wink in there for good measure.

The other man blinked before letting out an uproarious bellow and throwing his arm around Mac’s shoulders. “Well, well! Kitty got claws! Definitely what I’ve been lookin’ for in a wife. Most folks in this job don’t live out the day. I’m impressed.”

Mac frowned; he’d only been here half an hour. And how many people died doing _this_?

“Don’t worry kid, it’s a figure of speech. The amount of people who walk out the second we put them in a dress, well…” Chuckling quietly to himself, he continued, “Let’s just say they got what they wanted.”

They started up the stairs, moving towards the second floor of the building.

“Why put guys in dresses in the first place? Wouldn’t you wanna be smooching with a pretty girl instead of me?”

Laughing again, Hancock gave Mac a light punch to the shoulder before pushing him into a room once they reached the top of the stairwell.

“Thought scandalous work-place romance was off the table kid? Though, if you’re offering, I know a closet or two that’ll fit all three of us.”

Mac frowned again, confused at the man’s words. “Three of us?”

Hancock grinned again, with a twinkle in his eye. “Why, you, me, and the dress of course.”

Before he could say no, Mac was unceremoniously pushed out of a door. He panicked when the sunlight hit his face, but the relief was almost instantaneous when he realised he was standing on a balcony. Unfortunately, that relief was immediately extinguished when he saw the group of people standing below him.

This was way more people than he anticipated. Sure, the State House was a tourist attraction, but he didn’t think _this_ many people gave a flying shit about something that happened hundreds of years ago. Hancock’s little speech, that he paid absolutely _no_ attention to, probably only lasted a few minutes, and the crowd certainly enjoyed his showmanship. Luckily, all Mac had to do was stand there and look pretty. When Hancock put an arm around his shoulders, Mac grasped his hand and faced him with what he hoped was a ‘loving’ expression. What took him by surprise was the quick kiss that the man dropped to his lips. He barely had enough time to react when Hancock spoke into his ear, low enough that he was almost drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.

“Does it count as scandalous if we have an audience?”

For the second time in his life, Mac honestly thought about murdering someone. He could just push him of the balcony, but he didn’t know if that would actually work. It wasn’t a particularly large fall, and there was always the chance that the crowd would catch him on the way down. He’d probably lose his job and be chased out of town, and _that_ wasn’t something he wanted to do in a big damn dress.

Before he could really figure out how to get away with murder, Hancock bid adieu to the crowd and guided him back inside by the hand. As soon as the door closed, Mac ripped his hand away and glared.

“Could have given me _some_ warning there.”

Hancock gave a sheepish shrug, clearly uncomfortable.

“Yeah that doesn’t usually happen, kinda had to improvise there. Sorry about that man, probably should have told you your lines, that was on me. I’ll see if I can find you a script.”

Mac just stood, slightly dumbfounded, whilst Hancock opened the drawers of a desk, and then took the sheath of paper that was handed to him. When he gave the man an incredulous stare, Hancock merely shrugged.

“Read that on your own time. Now, let’s go welcome some tourists.”

“You’re not gonna kiss me again are you?” Mac shouted after him as he walked away. When Hancock chuckled, Mac followed, and received another punch to the shoulder.

“I think I’m gonna like you, kid. Come on, if I feel the urge I’ll give you ample time to punch me.”

Grumbling to himself about how many body parts the man would lose if he tried that again, Mac begrudgingly followed Hancock to work.

Not much really happened after that. Some of the tourists gave them weird looks once they’d gotten up close and now they could see that ‘Dorothy’ was a dude in a dress. After blowing them a few kisses, they scurried away soon enough. Before long, the guests were turned away at the door and the last stragglers finally left the building, and it was time for lunch.

“One hour folks! If you want an order, speak up or forever go uncaffeinated!” About ten people raised their hands and Hancock scribbled everything down before handing the piece of paper to Mac. “Here you are new guy. Tell Sunshine it’s for Hancock, we have a tab.”

Mac moved to go downstairs and get himself out of the godforsaken dress, but Hancock’s hand on his shoulder stopped him and swiftly led him to the door.

“No time for that, kid. Go on now.”

And, just like that, he was once again pushed outside, dress and all, to the sound of laughter. Of _course_ had to go get the coffee, but if this was some kind of new-recruit-hazing thing, they had another thing come it. Far be it from Robert Joseph MacCready to back down from a challenge. There were other things more important than his pride, and he damn sure wasn’t going to let it get in the way. So, with this in mind, he began to gracefully flounce in the direction of the coffee shop.

Then, he remembered _who_ was _in_ the coffee shop; a mirage of a woman, with a streak of snark that could put his to shame. He could image everything now; walking in wearing the dress, her laughter and how she would never take him seriously again. With just one move, he’d been utterly, absolutely, _inconceivably_ cock-blocked.

Fuck his pride, but he really was going to murder Hancock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope it was worth the wait! Lots of love <3


End file.
